


watching time

by thunderlilly



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:58:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16269425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderlilly/pseuds/thunderlilly





	watching time

Steve screamed as the ice slowly retreated from his body, leaving his muscles spasming and shaking and his chest gasping with breaths that were still frozen inside his lungs. There was pressure building in his ears, seemingly coming from his bones and it felt as if he was being stretched, as if he was being pulled in every direction at once and was now ripping apart at the seams. It hurt. Worse than the asthma he’d had to fight as a kid and all the other illnesses, even worse than the serum changing his body into something that would survive his thirtieth birthday, and his sixtieth and - if Erskine had been right - even his hundredth. Because the serum had burned, it had run through his veins like molten lava, but lightening fast and burning away every old scar, every weakness, every sickness (except the one of his mind, but Steve doubted anything would be able to burn that out of him) and letting him rise from the ashes of his old self like a phoenix.

This, though, this felt like a reversion. A slow undoing, unraveling everything the serum had done for him, unraveling his very being, slowly turning him into cold, dead stone. And with a flash of panic Steve realized that he really was turning to stone. He couldn’t move his arms or legs, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe - goddammit just breathe - and he couldn’t hear his own heartbeat. He was so cold.

Then, suddenly, there was fire, burning on his chest, fire burning brightly around him and he started screaming again, because it was beautiful and light and soft, but it burned - oh God, it burned - and then his scream broke off completely, because the fire had breached his chest, melting the ice and burning away his flesh and bones, laying bare his heart that wasn’t beating and his lungs that weren’t breathing.

Blue eyes swam into his vision, kind but just as bright and flickering as the fire.

But they were too bright, too gentle, they didn’t fit with the pain that cursed through Steve’s whole being and Steve had to close his own eyes to block them out.

A voice, soft and deep, whispered to him and it seemed to reverberate in his head, sending vibrations through his body and Steve could have cried from thankfulness for finally being able to feel something that wasn’t crippling pain. He whimpered and the voice cooed at him,

“Shh,“ it said, “it’s alright, we’re gonna fix you, sweetheart. Don’t worry, don’t cry.” The fire moved up to his face and tracked down his cheeks until it reached his chin, where it rested. There weren’t any tears on his face, Steve knew, they were all frozen behind his eyelids, but there might as well have been, and the motion calmed him - despite the burning, prickling sensation it left behind.

“You’re gonna be fixed in no time,” the voice went on, and Steve felt relieved. He didn’t know what was wrong, what was happening, but he was in pain, and afraid and so incredibly, unimaginably cold despite the fire still residing inside his chest, engulfing his heart now. He wanted to be fixed, he wanted the voice to fix him.

“It will just be a little tweak, darling. Just a little turn. Don’t you worry, it will be over quickly.”

Steve listened to the voice, letting it settle him, let the heat engulf him and felt it flicker tighter around his heart, tighter, more intently. Pressing inward until he could feel the ice crunch, his heart break and crack and crush -

And this time when he screamed no sound came out. He felt his jaw stretch, moving when nothing else would, his silent scream vibrating around him even when he couldn’t breathe and the voice grew louder, speaking to him gently, singing in strange language, deep and beautiful but not enough, not nearly enough, because his heart was being ripped to pieces, opened under the flames and he still couldn’t take a breath, couldn’t move, couldn’t scream.

The brightness around him ebbed away, leaving red and blue imprints on the back of Steve’s ice-cold lids. Slowly, he blinked, looked up right into two shining blue stars right above him, watching him worriedly and they were still so bright, flickering gently all over his face, but it still hurt him to look at them, adding to the pain in his chest and he lowered his eyes to look at his shredded heart.

When he saw, though, he wished he would have just closed his eyes again instead, because his chest really was gaping wide open, light blue skin pulled aside, rippling around his torso and stomach, revealing his ribs which were reflecting the blue-green flames, gleaming coldly. His muscles and flesh pushed aside like his skin and his heart - dear god was that his heart? Was this what had been beating inside his chest all his life? 

No, not beating, he thought, ticking. Ticking inside his chest, not pumping blood through his body, but seconds and minutes and hours, not keeping him alive but counting down to zero, marking how much time he still had left. 

Despairingly, he eyed the watch that lay in the middle of his ribcage. It looked rusty and as broken as he felt, its chain winding around his spine, merging with it where his tailbone would usually be. Its glass was dull with frost and opened on its hinges, baring the intricate mechanics on the inside. The flames that danced hotly around its edges suddenly dived between the cogs pulling some away from each other, bending them this way and that and putting them back together and the pain of it all made Steve choke on his tongue, made him close his eyes again and wasn’t it strange, that he hadn’t even raised his head to be able to look into his own chest. As if he was already half-ghost, slowly lifting away from his lifeless body. 

He groaned and the voice began talking soothingly to him again, “It’s alright love, it won’t hurt much longer. I’m almost finished. It will be okay.” And again, Steve couldn’t help but trust this voice, his mind quieting again, though the terror that had plunged its claws deeply into his minds didn’t disappear completely this time.  
With his eyes closed Steve didn’t have anything to distract him from the violating feeling of the hot touch seeking, shifting through the gears of his clockwork heart, making him want to shudder and leaving him hurting in ways he’d never thought possible.

Steve wanted it to end. He wanted the pain to stop, wanted the ice to melt and the flames to cool. Most of all, though, wanted to sleep, to rest - just for a moment.  
For the first time he noticed how tired he had grown, how exhausted the pain was leaving him.

“Don’t be afraid, love,” murmured the voice and the flames brushed against his cheek again, not as scolding, this time, or maybe, Steve thought sluggishly, he’d just grown used to the pain.

“I’m almost finished now, you will have to hold on for just a few more minutes, just a little bit more, darling. You are doing so well.” The voice grew higher as it talked, losing its deep, sonorous timbre until it sounded more like a child’s voice than a man’s.

It shook slightly, and the flickering flames in his chest moved faster, almost frantically, unsettling Steve and making him open his eyes once again.

“I’m sorry I have to do it this way, but when they brought you in I actually thought you were dead.” The disconnect between Steve’s consciousness and his body had grown again, the pain ebbing away slowly, almost making it easier for him to concentrate, if he wouldn’t also grow steadily more tired. He sighed in relief. The flames around him started to bleed together into one solid light as his eyes lost focus.

“It took me too long to realize that your clock wasn’t actually gone, but frozen. I’m sorry,” the voice - the child - said and some of Steve’s concentration returned at that, because this wasn’t right. It 

shouldn’t sound so defeated, so guilty when it was the only reason Steve was even still there.

As he felt himself fade, he concentrated on keeping his vision sharp, and as his mind slowly rose up from inside his body he could see more and more of what was happening around him, inside him, although he didn’t understand what it actually was that was happening.

It was as if he was watching two different layers of reality seemingly on top of each other, two different versions of himself laying on the bed, one unharmed and resting peacefully, albeit pale - almost blueish - and with a face that could as well have been carved from stone. 

The second one, however, differed starkly from it. His face was a grimace, distorted in pain, ugly and twisted. His eyes were wide open, bulging out of their sockets and staring at nothing. His torso was laid bare with a cut that run from just under his collarbones to his belly button. His skin was rosy, shining bright red in places, as if slightly burned, almost feverish and the watch in his chest had now lost its frosty gleam.

It was still wide open where it lay in the middle of his chest so Steve couldn’t see the time it displayed, but that didn’t matter, he knew at which numbers the clock hands had stopped. After all, he’d carried that same watch with him through all of the battles he’d fought during the war. This watch had been the last thing he’d seen before the water had taken him.

But even if he didn’t remember the watch, he’d still know the time, after all he would never, could never forget the time he’d died.

With a morbid curiosity he watched the pair of burning hands hurriedly - skillfully and strangely elegant in their movements - working their way through the gears, extracting them, raising them up for inspection, turning them this way and that before setting them back carefully were they belonged. Steve almost didn’t feel it this time.

His gaze rose to keen, gleaming eyes in a too young face. He forced his vision grow sharper and, startled, he realized that the boy’s eyes weren’t just gleaming, they were burning. Flames were licking at the long lashes fanning across his cheeks, illuminating his face with a flickering, fascinating light. 

Steve couldn’t say how he knew when the boy turned his attention on him, since he didn’t move his head in any way, but he could feel himself shudder anyway under the heaviness of his gaze.

The boy smiled tiredly at him and Steve felt himself frown, because there were lines on his face - lit by those strange, captivating eyes, that should not exist in a boy’s face that couldn’t be more than eight years old.

“That was the last one,” the child spoke then, raising his head, and it was the same voice that had spoken to him all this time. “It’s fixed now.” And Steve didn’t know what that meant, only that the pain had almost entirely faded away and that the cold had gone with it. When he tried to open his mouth this time he could feel his jaw move, though both visions on the bed beneath him stayed motionless.

“Thank you,” he said.

The boy just looked at him for a moment, then he slowly pulled one hand out of Steve’s open ribcage and laid it lightly on his cheek. Distantly, Steve felt the heat radiating over his face. He tilted his head towards the child’s palm.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” the boy whispered and Steve shook his head.

“You stayed with me,” he replied watching the flames in his eyes cast dancing shadows across his high cheekbones. He was ethereal, beautiful and for a moment Steve itched draw him - almost laughed at the urge to do so.

The boy inclined his head and looked back down to his chest.

“I need to close that,” he said, tapping lightly against the side of the watch. “Can you try and stay with me, too? I don’t think I can survive another twenty years alone and with nothing interesting to watch.”

He didn’t look to be over twenty - didn’t look to be much older than eight, really - but he sounded tired, even more tired than Steve felt, and brittle and Steve had always been weak to people begging him for help. He nodded.

“I’ll give my best,” he said, because, really, in the end trying was all he could do at the moment. 

He felt himself slip further away and tried to anchor himself to his body. He was tired and the more he fought the faster the pain came rushing back, but he’d promised and he wouldn’t give up now.

The child smiled up at him, as though he could sense him fighting and took a big breath.

“Thank you,” he said. Steve smiled.

“Thank you, too.”

The boy took his hand from Steve’s cheek and placed it on the outside of the watch before turning his attention to his face again. Steve noticed that the fire in his eyes had begun to flicker wildly again, and he understood now that the boy was actually frightened about whatever was about to happen.

“Are you ready?” He asked and Steve could actually feel himself shake with laughter. It was refreshing, he thought, to not feel like an unresponsive block of ice for once. He shook his head.

“I don’t think I could ever be ready,” he answered and the boy, too, huffed out a laugh.

“Fair enough,” he said and drew in another breath before adding, “it will hurt. Bad. Try to stay with me.”

And before Steve could reply he closed the watch.

At once, Steve felt all the pain rushing back, and the cold, creeping closer towards his heart, inching up his spine and, this time, he howled in pain. Flinched away from the ice and the agony that were pulling him back into his body.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” He almost couldn’t hear over his screaming. “Try to stay with me, it’s only a few more seconds now, only a moment. C’mon, Steve, please.”

Steve could feel himself shake, his body shudder and convulse, some invisible link pulling him closer and closer towards the pain, towards his body and the child he’d promised to stay with. Though, with the agony of a broken watch inside him, sending ice through his veins all he could do to try and keep that promise was to not fight too hard against the ever increasing pull on his very soul.

And then, suddenly, the pain stopped, leaving him dizzy and light-headed.

For an infinite moment there was nothing around him, but a breathless, pained silence.

Then he heard it, just as he felt himself settle completely into his body, the pull finally subsiding a bit.

Just once, but loud and clear, the clock inside his chest no longer broken and still.

TICK

Heard it once, loud and alive. Heard a child’s voice laughing, tinkling and full of joy. 

Heard his first shuddering breath that had been frozen inside his lungs for so long.

Then he heard nothing at all.


End file.
